


Salvation

by eerian_sadow



Series: Avalon [66]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Child Abuse, F/F, Infidelity, child rape, escaping an abusive situation, look this isnt a nice fic, mentioned rape, spousal abuse, spousal rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-28
Updated: 2008-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-20 00:24:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9467222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerian_sadow/pseuds/eerian_sadow
Summary: She thought she was saving a homeless sparkling.  She hadn't expected him to give her the strength to save herself in return.





	1. Chapter 1

Rest cycle patrols were the worst during a normal shift. Rest cycle patrols during an acid shower were much worse. She was fairly sure, on those nights, that she had already been condemned to the Pit.

Other nights she only wondered if the Pit was really as bad as her life.

Crossfire wanted to go home. She wanted to go back to her real home, not the tiny apartment she and Meltdown had leased when they were younger and thought that love really was the cure for anything.

Back when they were young and stupid.

Quickfoot would let her come home, Crossfire was certain. And if he didn’t want to, Prowl would convince him. She would go, if only her bondmate would let her.

Meltdown refused to let her leave. “He doesn’t love you if he won’t let you do what makes you happy,” the other femme had said the day they left when Crossfire had expressed her doubts about running away. When she had used those words as an argument for leaving, Meltdown had hit her hard enough to crack optic glass and dent facial plating.

The only relief she had from her bondmate was her work in the security force. It was hard—and getting harder by the cycle, with the terrorists out by the mines—but it got her away from the other femme for a few groons.

The streets of this part Koan were dark, many of the lights broken or stolen, and she felt uncomfortably vulnerable as she walked along under her rain shield. But better here than at the apartment, where the best she would get was a session of ranting and forced into interface to make Meltdown “feel better” about her own job.

Crossfire wished she knew what had happened to take away the warm, caring femme she had fallen in love with while they were in the Academy

She quickened her steps when she heard soft, distressed cries echoing down the empty street. The acid pooled in the street splashed onto her legs and stung, but she would worry about it later; she had a job to do that was much more important. The cries grew louder the closer she came to the source—and not just because she was getting closer.

Whoever was making the sounds was in serious pain.

She came around a corner, into what looked like a run-down living sector. The buildings were run down, but clearly apartments. The street was lined with rusting shacks, most of which looked completely inadequate to keeping the acid rain outside where it belonged.

Lying outside one of them was a small, boxy, blue mech. His chest plates were open—and bent too far out of shape to close properly again—and she could see his spark flickering with each drop of acid that touched it. In the light of his flickering spark, Crossfire could also see fuel dripping from his body and onto the street.

“Dear Primus!” she whispered.

The sparkling turned his head and looked at her with dim red optics. He stopped crying when he realized she was looking back. Something like hope crossed his features, then it was replaced by shame and he tried to pull his chest compartment closed.

Crossfire walked closer and knelt beside him, coving him with her rain shield. She knew exactly what caused damage like that.

“You won’t be able to close it right now,” she said gently, using one of her hands to still his. “We’ll have to get you a medic to fix it first.”

He whimpered and tried to cover himself with his hands. “No medic. Please.”

He looked so terrified that she almost gave in to the request. But with his small size, that strange voice he had just used and broken chest plates he would be nothing but a walking victim in this neighborhood. And he had been victimized enough already.

“You have to get help,” she told him gently. “I won’t leave you here like this.”

The small mech looked like he wanted to argue, but he said nothing. He didn’t cry out when she picked him up, though it had to have hurt whatever internal injury he had. He didn’t complain—or really acknowledge at all—when she used the rain shield as a cover for his broken chest plates.

There was a small free clinic nearby. Even if the medic on staff couldn’t help him, she would be able to wait there safely for transport to a more well-equipped facility.  



	2. Chapter 2

Crossfire was shocked when the medic came back into the room and delivered his report. “He’s a sparkling? Are you sure?”

“Very sure,” the medic replied. “He’s been in for similar injuries before, but none this severe. I’ve tried to help him in the past but he won’t have any of it. If I had known Soundwave’s life would be like this when Patchwork died, I’d’ve taken him in myself.”

Crossfire fell weakly into a chair. “What kind of mech could do that to a sparkling?”

“Unfortunately, a lot of the ones that live in the slums around here.” The medic sat down in a chair next to her. “Are you going to take him in?”

“I can’t take him home,” she said softly. “My bonded would… No. I can’t take him home.”

“So, we just send him back out into that. I feel like I’m violating my oaths as a healer every time I do that.” The medic put his face in his hands. “Isn’t there anything else that can be done for him?”

“I’ll contact one of the youth centers near headquarters,” Crossfire replied. “Maybe someone there can help him.”

“Not the best solution,” he said softly. “But better than sending him out to be raped again.”

Crossfire nodded. _Anything_ was better than that.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

She checked on Soundwave as often as her shifts allowed after she brought him to the security offices. The youth centers in Koan were all full—beyond full in some cases—so her superior had cleared out a space in one of the holding cells for the sparkling. Crossfire couldn’t help but feel like he was being unfairly imprisoned every time she saw him.

“When can I go home?” Soundwave asked her in his broken voice.

“Do you really think of the slums as home?” she replied. “Do you really want to go back to a place where other mechs will hurt you like that?”

He shook his head. “Don’t want to be a prisoner.”

“You aren’t a prisoner.”

“Then why can’t I go?”

Crossfire didn’t have an answer for him.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The medic had become her refuge fairly quickly. He listened to her when she needed someone to talk to, and he repaired her damage when Meltdown had been too violent again. He never judged her, and his door was always open to her.

“Dasher?” She tried to sound stronger than she felt, but Crossfire’s voice was still small when she spoke.

The medic looked at hear wearily. “Crossfire. Please tell me she didn’t beat you again.”

She shook her head. “No. I just need to talk.”

He gestured for her to take a chair and sit. “Sorry for the harsh welcome. It’s been a bad day.”

“Bad how? Do I need to call someone down her again?”

“No, nothing like that.” Dasher gave her a weak smile. “Just too many people trying to get themselves slagged beyond repair again. Nothing the security corps can fix.”

Crossfire knew the truth of that. “Good. I hate knowing that you’re in danger.”

“I know.” He pulled some high grade out of a desk drawer and slid a cube over to her. “Now, tell me what’s weighing on your processor.”

“They want to deactivate him.” She didn’t need to elaborate on who “they” and “him” were. They had fallen into a pattern when speaking about Soundwave and her superior’s superior. “They say it will be more merciful than anything else would be.”

“They still can’t find anyone who will take him?”

“I’m not sure they’re even trying any more. And he’s always locked in a cell; they don’t even let him walk around the office.” She took a drink of the high grade. “He keeps asking me why he’s a prisoner and I keep wishing I had a good answer for him.”

“Has anyone looked into the boarding schools?” Dasher asked, taking a drink of his own high grade.

“I don’t know. I don’t think anyone has thought of that.” Crossfire was thoughtful for a moment. “The school Prowl and I attended might… If Prowl called, anyway.”

“Would he? I know you and your family aren’t on good terms.”

Crossfire met Dasher’s optics in surprise. She didn’t think she had ever even talked about her family with him.

He smiled in response. “It isn’t hard to figure out. You’re very careful not to talk about them. You could though, you know.”

“I know. But I’m so used to not talking about them. Meltdown doesn’t let me have anything to do with any of my brothers—and especially not my creator—so I try not to mention them at all.” She curled up in the chair and wrapped her arms around her knees, careful not to spill the high grade. “Angry is to mild a word for how she gets when I do.”

“You can use my comm station,” he said gently. “She’ll never have to know.”

Crossfire wondered if Dasher knew how comforting that small statement was.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

To say that Prowl had been surprised to hear from her after so long would have been an understatement. She felt awful about her lack of contact when she heard his voice. She hated that she had hurt her brother—and best friend—but she hated the beatings Meltdown gave her more.

She wondered if her brother would understand that. But he didn’t ask why she never called, and she didn’t tell. He would probably only make things worse if he knew the truth.

“You did not call just to talk,” he said to her. “Tell me what is wrong.”

Crossfire smiled to herself. Even though they’d been apart for so long, he still knew her too well. “I need your help.”

“You know I will do anything for you,’ Prowl replied.

For a moment she wanted to tell him everything and beg him to come take her home. But she forced herself to stay focused on Soundwave’s problem. “I found a sparkling in the slums last deca-cycle. He’s an orphan and we can’t find a place for him in any of the youth centers. There isn’t anyone in my division who can take him in.”

“Crossfire, I cannot—“

“I don’t want you to take him,” she interrupted. “I wouldn’t do something like that to you. I need you to call the school and see if they’ll take him. I did some research and there are some state subsidies for schools who take students who are too poor to pay. They’re going to deactivate him if we can’t find somewhere for him to go.”

Crossfire could almost hear her brother’s processor working. “I will do what I can.”

“Thank you.”

“How can I contact you when I have an answer?” Prowl stayed all business, just the way she remembered him.

“Call this line. If I’m not here, ask for a mech named Dasher. He knows the situation and I trust him.”

“Very well.” His tone didn’t indicate if he thought she didn’t trust him anymore or not. She hoped Prowl didn’t doubt that; she hadn’t ever stopped trusting _him_. “I…miss you.”

“I miss you too. I’ll try to call more often.”

She didn’t think she could do it, but she would try to call. She loved her brother enough for that.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Crossfire wasn’t allowed to give Soundwave the news. She wasn’t allowed to have any contact with him at all when he was transferred from the prison cell to the transport. She didn’t even get to watch the transport take off to fly him to the school.

She prayed the young mech would find a better life now.

Dasher didn’t ask any questions when she came to him that rest cycle. He simply let her talk if she wanted to talk, and held her when she didn’t. And when her worries and fears became too much, he provided a distraction from them as well.

She prayed that Meltdown wouldn’t find out. The other femme would probably beat her to death for being unfaithful.  



	3. Salvation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> takes place several years after part two.

She hummed as she held her sparkling, trying to give Bluestreak some measure of comfort after the screaming match she and Meltdown had earlier. He was always terrified after they fought, and it made her wonder what kind of things he had seen her bondmate do.

None of it could have been worse than the beating he had witnessed the day she brought him home. She felt like purging her fuel tanks at the memory; sparklings should never witness that kind of violence. The next day had been the last time she had seen Dasher at the clinic, though he had left her a forwarding address.

Sometimes she thought he was ashamed that he had created a sparkling with another femme’s bondmate.

Crossfire almost dropped Bluestreak when the visitor announcer sounded. No one visited them—not when she was home, anyway—and she hadn’t given any of her work friends their address before she had left the security force. She walked into the main room and set Bluestreak down in his play area.

It was too dangerous to open the door holding a sparkling since the Decepticons had begun working in the open.

The mech on the other side of the door was a Decepticon, as she had feared. He was a brilliant royal blue, with a boxy design and a red visor covering his optics. She had a moment to wonder what he was hiding with those before he spoke.

“Is this Meltdown’s residence?”

Crossfire nodded hesitantly. She had noticed when her bondmate started sporting the Decepticon crest, and hadn’t liked it. She didn’t care what Megatron claimed; the “revolutionaries” were not a group to be trusted.

“Lord Megatron summons her. Is she present?” His voice was overlaid with a hint of static—like his vocalizer needed maintenance—and was naggingly familiar.

She wondered if she had met him when he was younger. “I don’t know where she is. We’re not exactly on good terms.”

“I was instructed not to return without her.”

Crossfire honestly didn’t care what he had been instructed. She didn’t want more than one Decepticon around Bluestreak if she could help it. “Then you’ll have to wait out her for her.”

“I see.” His gaze didn’t move from hers.

The silence stretched out between them. After an eternity, he finally said, “I know you.”

“I don’t know any Decepticons except Meltdown,” Crossfire replied.

“You worked security in Koan when I was a sparkling.” He stated it as irrefutable fact. “You picked me up on patrol.”

She remembered him with a suddenness that hurt. “Soundwave?”

He nodded. “I will not hurt you.”

“I can’t let you in. I can’t let my sparkling be exposed to more Decepticons.” She looked away from him, finally. “Please understand.”

“You have a sparkling?” His voice was shocked. “You have a sparkling and you _stay with her?_ Are you glitched?”

“What?” She was almost insulted.

“She brags about torturing a sparkling,” he told her. “I’ve heard her, when she is with her friends. She takes _joy_ in it. You have to take him away from here.”

Crossfire was stunned. Meltdown had been… “Oh, Primus, what have I been letting her do? I knew what kind of person she was and I still left him home with her…”

She nearly collapsed with grief, but Soundwave’s hands on her arms held her up. “Do you have someplace to go? Somewhere you can hide?”

She ran her options through her processor. Prowl would never turn her away. Neither would any of her other brothers. But she didn’t want to lead the Decepticons to an Autobot base or place her family in danger. Dasher was her only other option, though.

If he turned her away, she would go to Prowl. But she didn’t think Dasher would make her stay away. “Yes.”

“Let me help you hide,” Soundwave said.

He looked so serious when he said it that Crossfire couldn’t find the strength to say no. “Swear you’ll never tell her?”

“I understand a creator’s need to protect their sparkling,” he replied. “I will never betray your trust.”

She didn’t know why she was trusting this mech she hadn’t know since he was a sparkling, but she didn’t hesitate to put Bluestreak in his arms while she packed. He held the sparkling with all the care she would have shown her creation, and she knew she had made the right choice.

Her gaze lingered for a moment over the painting Prowl had given her for her graduation. She loved it, and she wanted to take it, but it would give her away too soon. She took a moment to touch the frame one last time, then turned away.

If a painting was the sacrifice she made to save her sparkling, it was a good sacrifice.

She didn’t look back as Soundwave escorted them outside. Dasher had hidden them for three cycles before she did that.

That rest cycle, she could see her old apartment building in flames. It was the last time she wondered if she had made the right decision when she left.  



End file.
